Miles
by Geeklove4eva
Summary: Sara needs closure. But she especially needs it when she finds a note on her windshield that says her mother is dying. With Grissom's help, they set off on a cross country journey to find the woman, who has seemingly disappeared.
1. Chapter 1

Miles by Gabby Castillo

Author's note: Hey all! Long time, no write. For now, "Threads of Time" is on hiatus. I'm kinda stalled there for the moment. But this popped into my head tonight and I just have to flow with it. I really hope you like it!

Disclaimer: Not mine, but they're on my Christmas list!

Dedication: This chapter goes out to my friend Ashley! Heal soon, chica!

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She was standing on a dock in the dark and she was alone. Alone, except for the thrashing sounds under the dock, and the screaming. But she stood still, letting the ocean breeze tug at her hair, watching the dim moon gleam high in the dark California sky, and listening to her name being carried on the breeze. Being screamed in the breeze.

Then she always woke up.

Sweat glistening against her pale skin and a thin tank top stuck to it as well, Sara would sit up in her bed and rub at her eyes, glancing briefly at the clock on her nightstand before letting out a low groan and tossing her legs over the edge of her bed. The dream had become her internal alarm clock, even if it was a few hours earlier than she would have liked. But it still signaled the beginning of her day, and she would make her way around the apartment, tossing open her opaque curtains to let the light of Nevada's setting sun into the quite space. Sara told herself it was just to get her up, but in the back of her mind she knew it was to fight back the chill that settled in the pit of her stomach. Because she always woke up with the scream in her head, and the voice was always a familiar one.

It was always her mother's.

Today was no different, and she made her way around the apartment, following her now daily routine, throwing open the curtains, memorizing the sound of her bare feet padding across the thick carpet below. Sara stopped at the last window and stretched slowly, pulling back the curtain when her muscles relaxed. Except for today she stood looking out the window, instead of moving away from it to start a pot of coffee.

Stretched before her was an unusually beautiful view of Vegas before dark, the sun casting shadows against weathered buildings and glistening giants. Only a few neon lights had been turned on, but they were dulled by the intensity of the sun. Cars rushed by on the street below her, unaware that she watched silently from above. Somewhere in the distance a police siren went off and Sara cringed, thinking that later tonight she could be investigating that crime scene, processing that victim, laying out what happened for a weeping family who just could not grasp her answers.

For a moment she wondered if anyone she knew was walking around that city, unable to sleep or running some errands before work. Maybe Catherine had taken Lindsey shopping, or maybe Warrick had taken Tina to dinner. It was plausible that Nick was buying groceries right now, or Greg was getting his hair cut. Sara smiled and admitted to herself that the only thing Greg had cut recently was his paycheck when he took the CSI I position at the lab, and his hair would stay happy and gelled on his head for awhile longer. It was possible, though, that Grissom was out doing whatever it was Grissom did when he wasn't looking at bugs and working a case. Probably wandering around the city, wasting time before he went to the lab an hour or two early.

Then she remember her mother's scream from her nightmare, and wondered if maybe her mother wasn't out there somewhere, looking up at the dimming Las Vegas sky and thinking about her at that moment. She hadn't talked to her mother since the day she…

Sara turned from the window and went to the kitchen, starting a pot of coffee before moving to the bathroom. She turned the water on as hot as she could stand and stripped quickly. She stepped under the scalding water and flinched as the hot spray hit her back and dripped down her skin.

A voice in her head told her it was time to pick up the phone, call her mother and let the healing begin. If she thought about it, it was the voice of her PEAP counselor. After all, he had recommended making that call in their third session together, but even until their very last session Sara had refused. Now, though, it didn't seem like such a bad option.

Years had passed, and the pain was deep. But she was trying to let the wounds heal. Sara had told Grissom everything, and even now, as she thought about it, the ache in her heart started to lessen at the thought that she wasn't the only one carrying the burden anymore. Grissom had held her hand and let her cry until the tears just wouldn't come anymore, and she tried to imagine what it would feel like to hear her mother's voice as they talked it out, and to feel a little more of the pain fade into the background.

Her shower done, she turned off the water and stepped out, wrapping her cotton robe around her slender figure and a towel around her head. She stepped out into the kitchen and grabbed a cup of coffee before heading back into her room. She rummaged through her closet, finding a blue shirt and black dress pants to throw on before heading into work. She sipped on the coffee after each article of clothing went on, and as she blow-dried her hair. She finished in the bathroom and slipped her shoes on at the door. She would only be a few hours early today, plenty of time to finish the report on the homicide she had had last night.

She grabbed her keys and headed out the door, quickly making her way down the stairs to her car in the parking lot below. It wasn't until she was about to get in that she noticed the white envelope that had been placed underneath her windshield wiper. Picking it up carefully, she looked around for anyone who might have put it there, but the lot was empty, and she turned her attention back to the envelope. Opening it gingerly with cautious fingers she carefully slid the lined paper out from the paper folds, and unfolded it as if it were a piece of evidence. Her eyes read it over once, twice, and only then did a gasp escape from her lips. Her mother's scream went through her head again, and when she read the note for a third time, she hopped into her car, the words on the note replacing the scream as the echo in her head.

_Your mother is dying, and before she goes, you need to find her._

TBC


	2. Chapter 2

Author's note: Lol, so, here is the next chapter. Sorry it's taken so long, but I was trying to figure out exactly what the next few chapters would be about. With that done, we may move on. So, without further adieu, chapter two!

Dedication: This chapter is dedicated to my buddy Cyela! Dude, we miss you so much! We'll see you soon!

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Gil Grissom sat up from his paperwork just in time to see the blur that was Sara Sidle rush past his office door, kit in hand. Curious and needing to stretch his stiff legs, he rose from his chair and made his way to the hallway. His eyes followed Sara down the hall, watching as she entered the layout room.

Slowly he made his way through the small throng of people that littered the hall, mostly unfamiliar swing shift lab techs and CSIs. He brushed past them, paying little mind as a delivery man bumped into him, and continued his journey toward the layout room. His eyes stayed glued to Sara as he watched her opening her kit through the glass walls. She took out a swab and set it neatly next to her print powder and brush, then carefully removed an envelope from her pocket and set it on the table. Opening the flap and picking up the swab, she ran the cotton tip over the sticky seal. As she finished, Grissom leaned against the door frame.

"I thought you closed your homicide?"

Sara graced him with a quick glance before turning back to the envelope, "Yeah, I wrapped it up last night. This is something else."

Pushing himself from the door frame, Grissom walked into the room. He made his way to the table, stopping when his shoulder met hers. Sara took a slow breath and managed to stop herself from flinching away.

"What do you have?" Grissom's voice was low as he leaned closer to the envelope.

Sara looked up as she placed the swab back into its package, "I found it on my windshield."

Grissom frowned, "What is it?"

"A note," said Sara, opening the print powder and carefully dipping her brush into it. She slowly shook off the excess powder before she lowered it to the envelope. When she was done, she removed the note and printed it as well.

"A note about?"

"My mother."

The sound of the brush skimming across the notes surface was the only sound in the room as Sara finished. Grissom gave Sara a sideways glance, but Sara kept her eyes down, concentrating on the paper in front of her. Finally, she grinned. A print came into view from under the course bristles.

"Grissom, will you hand me my camera?"

He picked up the camera and placed it in her hands, watching as she quickly snapped to overheads.

"I'm going to transfer these and run the prints through AFIS. Run the DNA too," she picked up her stuff and stood straight, backing up towards the door, "I'll… see you when shift starts."

She turned and started for the door, but the sound of Grissom calling to her made her stop.

"What… did the note say?"

The room was silent. Sara dropped her head and for a second Grissom thought she wouldn't answer. Just as he was about to apologize, he heard her whisper a reply.

"She's dying."

She took another step toward the door and once again was stopped by the sound of his voice, "I'll help you process if you'd like some help."

Sara turned to face him, throwing him a questioning glance. She shrugged.

"I was just doing paperwork anyway," he added.

"Okay," said Sara nodding, and she motioned for Grissom to follow her. They walked down the hallway together, an awkward silence settling over them. Sara was the first to speak.

"Grissom, you really don't have to do this."

Grissom nodded slowly, "I know, but I want to. I mean, I know how much this means to you."

Sara stopped and gave him a small smile, "Thank you. That really means a lot."

She handed him the camera and allowed her smile to get a little bigger, "Transfer these to a computer and send them through AFIS for me?"

Grissom took the camera and smiled, "I'll meet up with you in a bit."

He turned from her and walked away, leaving Sara staring after him, wondering what exactly was going on.

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"I got nothing with DNA," said Sara as she walked into the fingerprint lab.

"Well, then you're in luck," said Grissom as he stepped away from the printer, "Because I got a hit."

Sara smiled as she took the still warm sheet from Grissom's hand. He watched as she read the results, watching her eyes brighten and her smile grow. When she was done, Sara looked up and, for the first time in a long time, gave him her trademark smile.

"Janice Morrow. Worked for the California State Women's Correctional Facility before transferring to Vegas."

"She's a state hired psychiatrist," added Grissom.

Sara bounced on her toes with renewed vigor. She felt like she could hug the man standing in front of her, but she opted to pat him on the shoulder instead. Her hand lingering, she continued to smile up at him.

"Thank you," she said.

Grissom smiled, not saying anything. Their eyes locked as they stood alone, but they didn't stay that way for long. Grissom's pager went off.

"Catherine," he mumbled as he looked down at the number, and Sara quickly removed her hand.

Grissom checked his watch, "Shift is about to start."

Sara nodded and gave Grissom one last shy smile, "See you in the break room."

He nodded and as an afterthought spoke up, "Are you going to go talk to Ms. Morrow?"

"Yeah, after shift."

"If you… need someone there…," but he didn't know how to finish.

A familiar silence settled over them. Sara bit her bottom lip as she took a step towards the door, "Find me after shift," she said, and with that, she left.

He watched her until she disappeared around the corner, then turned towards his office to collect the nights cases and forget the trip Sara would have to take in the morning.

It was going to be a long shift.


	3. Chapter 3

Author's note: I cannot tell ya'll how much fun I'm having writing this story…even though it's starting to get sad. Lookie, a new record, it's only been three days since I last updated! Yay me! Anyway, enjoy!

Dedication: This chapter is dedicated to my buddy Stacy. Girl, I don't know what I'd do without you! I hope you get that job man, you deserve it… ? Lol!

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Shift had gone by painfully slow and by the time it was over Sara was ready to crawl into bed and sleep the day away. Since she had gotten up the previous night, she had been challenged mentally and emotionally. From the note on her windshield to the case she had been assigned, the day had been rough, and now she was drained. She shut her locker and took a seat on the bench in front of it, allowing her head to fall into her trembling hands.

It was the first time since she had arrived at work that she had had a moment to herself, a moment to grasp what was going on. She could just barely feel the weight of the envelope in her pocket, but it weighed her down like a ton of bricks. All night she had been running a phrase through her head, and she did it again as she sat there, trying to grab hold of the days' events.

_My mother is dying._

_She took my father's life and now something is taking hers._

Sara's breath hitched and the first salty tear spilled over, then another. Her body shook and a sob escaped her lips, stifled only slightly by the palms that still covered her face. She squeezed her eyes shut, trying to stop the now steady flow of silent tears, trying to breath in, doing everything she could think of to keep this from happening in the locker room of the lab. But the pain kept coming and so did the tears. Hunched over and shaking, Sara gave up trying to resist.

And then he was there, a strong hand gripping her shoulder, a solid frame to lean into as she lost all control, shaking body collapsing into his. His arms wrapped hesitantly around her shoulders until the tears subsided, her breathing slowed and she pulled away.

"I'm sorry. I… I shouldn't have done that," Sara wiped at the last of the tears rolling down her red cheeks.

"You don't have to apologize," Grissom said quietly.

"No, that was inappropriate. We're in the lab, and…"

"Sara," Grissom stopped her, "You're allowed to be human. What you found out today, it's enough to make even the strongest person break down."

"I just don't know how to handle this," Sara rubbed a tired hand over her face.

"You don't have to do this," Grissom said, watching her carefully when only silence answered him.

Sara stood up and stared down at Grissom. Radiant blue eyes stared back at her, slightly squinted in concern. In that moment, in that silence, Grissom was being more honest with her, more open, then he had been since they met. Not a word was being spoken, but he was saying so much with those blue orbs. He was not going to sit back and watch her suffer through this alone. Too long had he done that. No, he was here to stay, until this was resolved. And after that… well, that was for later.

"Yes, I do have to do this, but not for her. I need closure," she paused, then allowed him a small smile, "Want to come with me to see Janice Morrow?"

Grissom smiled and nodded. They walked out to the Denali, and made their way to the Morrow residence.

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A thirty minute drive across the city and three sharp knocks later, Grissom and Sara stood face to face with an older women with graying hair tying her apron around her waist. She frowned when they asked for Janice Morrow.

"I'm Janice," she stopped and looked Sara over. A look of recognition passed over her face, and her frown deepened, "I wasn't expecting to see you."

Grissom and Sara exchanged confused looks, and Grissom spoke up, "I'm sorry?"

"Her," she said, then turning to Sara, "You. It's Sara, isn't it?"

Tilting her head, Sara nodded slowly, "Yes, but you should know that. You left this on my windshield."

Sara pulled the envelope from her pocket and handed it to Janice. She took it from Sara and turned it over in her hands. She opened the flap and took out the note, reading it once, twice. Her face fell and she shook her head, "Oh dear. How did you find me?"

"We're criminalists with the Las Vegas Crime Lab. When I found this, I dusted it for prints. I ran them through our database and your name came up. You work for the state, you're prints are in the system."

"You're not in any trouble, ma'am," Grissom assured her, "We'd just like to ask you a few questions."

"Well, you can ask me all the questions you like, but I can tell you one thing off the bat: I didn't write this note."

Grissom and Sara looked at each other, then back to Janice, who had reached around and untied her apron. Taking it off, she stepped aside and waved the CSI's in.

The house appeared to be empty of any other people, but two plates were set at the table in the room to their right. The smell of eggs and bacon wafted through the air, and Janice briefly excused herself to turn off the stove. When she left, Grissom and Sara examined the room they were in. It was a large living room, but sparsely furnished. A couch, a loveseat and a faded blue recliner were spread around a small coffee table, and facing a television, which was gathering dust from disuse. Janice hurried back in and motioned for them to sit. She remained standing.

"My husband works nights and I like to make him breakfast on my days off," she shifted nervously, "He'll be home soon."

Sensing the woman wanted them to leave, Sara started where they had left off, "Mrs. Morrow, you said you didn't write this. How do you explain your fingerprints then?"

Janice smiled grimly, "I said I didn't write it. That doesn't mean I haven't seen it before."

Grissom's brow furrowed, "Where have you seen it before?"

Janice was fidgeting now, her slender fingers playing with the frayed edges of her apron. She bit her bottom lip as she slowly made her way to the recliner. Perched on the edge of her seat, she took in a deep breath and began.

"I met your mother when she was an inmate in the California State Women's Correctional Facility. I was her psychiatrist, and I help her with her appeal. Through our many meetings we became friends, and remained close even after her release. I know that she moved her a few years ago when she found out you were living here. She's been working up the courage to come see you, but after what she has done it is extremely hard for her to approach anyone or anything from her past… pre-murder. It's easier to let whatever she wants come to her. Four months ago she showed up with that note and asked me to find you and make sure you got it, but I didn't want to get involved in a family issue, so I declined to help."

Sara interrupted, "So the note was a guise to get me to find her?"

Janice shrugged, "Basically. A few weeks before your mother came to see me, she started having severe stomach pains. After seeing a doctor and going through several tests, she was diagnosed with stomach cancer. She was given five months to live. As a doctor and a friend I told her she needed to find you and make her peace before her time was up," she smiled, "It looks like she was able to find you, now you just need to find her."

Sara frowned, "Don't you know where she lives?"

"Well, yes, but… I went to see her two days ago, but her house was empty and she was gone. She left a note. She said she was fine, still alive, but with such little time left she had gone to do some final soul searching."

"Could we have that address? Maybe we can find something…," Grissom trailed off when Janice stood and left the room. A few minutes later she came back, carrying a piece of paper.

"I hope you find her before she winds up in a hospital. Your mother made some terrible mistakes in her life, Sara, but no one deserves to die alone… or die like that."

She handed Sara the paper with the address on it, then reached into her pocket. She stared down at the picture briefly before handing it over as well, "So you know what she looks like."

Sara took the picture and stared down at it. An older woman smiled back, the sun glinting off short cut and graying brown hair. Her arm was wrapped around the small shoulders of a young boy. Sara swallowed around the lump that had formed in her throat and looked up, "This little boy… is he…"

"My grandson. Your mother is always welcome at our family functions."

Sara let out a shaky breath and stood, giving a small smile to the woman in front of her. She felt Grissom touch her elbow. She turned to him, then followed his stare to the window. An older man was walking towards the door.

"My husband is home. I hope you don't mind, but…"

Sara nodded, "Thank you for your time."

Grissom and Sara exited as Mr. Morrow entered. As they pulled away Janice grabbed her husband's hand and sighed, "I hope they find her. Mother and daughter need closure."

TBC


	4. Chapter 4

**Author's note:** Wow, so sorry about the wait! I've been meaning to update this, but no ideas were flowing. And this is why re-reading is good. I read what I had and poof this is what came out. Short, I know, but I'm on a roll, so more to follow soon!

**Dedication:** This one goes out to Darth Kat! Ha, I got a dedication to you! Ha! Because you inspired me to keep writing this! Yay!

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Standing in the dying yard of the small house on the quite street made Sara feel uneasy. A dog barked nearby, and she blinked behind her dark sunglasses. Long strands of silky hair whipped around her face with help from the hot Nevada wind, and she crossed her arms over her chest in a defensive pose. Although she couldn't tell what she was defending herself from.

"Yes, thank you sir, we appreciate the help," Grissom flipped his cell phone close and turned around to join Sara, "Her landlord said she never really mentioned where she was going. Just something about visiting a personal landmark."

Sara hummed as she continued to stare at the house. She sighed, "It's the same color as our old home in California."

She walked up to the house and let her slender fingers run over the baby blue paint. A tiny chip came off between her fingers and she stared down at it. No matter how much time, a new coat of paint couldn't hide the scars, she thought wryly. She dropped the chip and looked through the dirty windows. New carpet, faded white walls, but empty. She shook her head.

"Why does a dying women move all her stuff with her?" she asked her reflection.

"Maybe she gave it to a charity?" offered Grissom, "We could look into it. She may have left a forwarding address or a phone number…"

But Sara wasn't listening. She was staring at the dying flower bed below the window, a distant smile gracing her otherwise stoic features, "She had a garden in California too."

She sat on the steps near the garden and let her fingertips run over the last of the living flowers. Grissom took a few steps closer to join her on the steps. Without hesitation, she continued, "When my father would go out, she'd escape to the garden. She had this dusty pair of overalls that she'd put on and this old banged up metal bucket that she would fill with dirt. My mother would spend hours out there, by the garden, planting and harvesting and watering. Nurturing those plants. Like she was making up for a marriage she couldn't save."

Sara drew her hand back and rubbed at her arm, fighting back the chill that threatened to course through her body, "A few days before she… murdered my father, she went outside, like she always did, but she didn't get to work right away. Just sat there, staring at the flowers. Then, as soon as my dad got home, she tore the garden up. Silently, without a tear, just… uprooted all the flowers. Like she knew it would all be over soon and she wouldn't need that garden anymore," Sara turned to Grissom, "It's weird that I never really put the two events together until now."

"When people get ready to commit suicide, they start to get rid of personal belongings," Grissom took a breath, "Maybe that was her way of making what she was about to do easier. Knowing she wouldn't be leaving any personal items behind and knowing she was giving you a better life."

Sara gave Grissom a weak smile and turned away. As she did, something in the bushes caught her attention.

"Grissom…"

Her hand reached out and grabbed the item from small bush next to the steps. She frowned as she brought it closer.

"What is it?" asked Grissom.

"It's a picture. Oh my God."

"What?" said Grissom, leaning closer.

"We had this secluded part of the shoreline we'd always go to on summer vacations. It was the only place my parents didn't fight. This picture, this is the year before everything happened. My dad bought a new camera for that trip and everything."

Grissom grinned down as he studied the picture. A young Sara Sidle gave a wide gap-toothed smile to the camera, chestnut hair up in long ponytail. A slender women with dark curly hair stood next to her, allowing a small smile to creep to her face. Behind them was the Pacific ocean, small waves rolling up the golden sand.

"Do you think she dropped it when she was moving her stuff out?" he asked Sara.

"No. I think she's leaving us bread crumbs." said Sara with a grin.

Sara stood up and slipped the photo into her pocket. She started walking toward the SUV.

"So, what's the plan from here?" asked Grissom.

Sara shrugged, "I need to get out to California. I think I know where she's going."


	5. Chapter 5

**Author's note:** Yeah, I know I said soon, but that didn't happen! Sorry! Anyways, here is the next chapter! Enjoy! Oh, and btw, someone said that they were surprised Sara didn't think of California first. That is very true, and I realize that now, so I'm gonna chalk it up to the stress of the moment for her and the fact that she has tried to repress as much of California as possible. Or at least that's what I'm gonna say, lol! Oh, and I'd like to thank my wonderful new beta, Cybrokat! She did an amazing job! thank you!

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"I don't know why I didn't even think about this," Sara fumed as she stared at the picture in her hands. Grissom just stared ahead silently as she continued, "I mean, that beach meant so much to her. It was her escape. I should have known that she would go there."

"It's understandable. When people are dying, they try to see what they haven't seen before they go, right?" Grissom stole a glance before turning his attention back to the road.

Sara turned to him, a skeptical look on her face. "Grissom. Ever the voice of reason," she sighed. "No, you're right. Look, um, I'm going to need to take a week, maybe two, off. And you can drop me off at my apartment. I'll need to pack."

The car went silent as Grissom took a right. He clenched his hands around the steering wheel, and unclenched them just as quickly. Running his tongue over his bottom lip, he took the opportunity to glance at Sara one last time before he started to speak.

"I'm, uh… I'm coming with you."

The silence got quieter as Sara turned slowly to look at him, mouth tight and face pale. Her eyebrows came together briefly before her mouth twitched into a nervous smile.

"No, Grissom."

He shrugged as he pulled into a parking space outside her apartment, "I know this is your thing, and I, uh, I know you want to do it alone, but that's a long drive for just one person. You should have someone with you. You know, to help you drive."

Sara shook her head. "No."

"And what if you need someone when you…," but he was cut off.

"Need someone? Grissom, no offense but I'm not sure you're the right person for the job."

"I want to try to be," he whispered.

He looked up and met her stare. The silence had returned, hanging heavily in the small space between them. Sara swallowed then nodded her head slowly.

"Ok," she paused and smiled. "But you're driving first."

She opened the door and stepped out, Grissom following close behind.

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Sara packed quickly, and when they arrived at Grissom's townhouse he did the same. After each made a few short phone calls, the expansive and dusty highway was folding out in front of them, cool air filtering in through the vents and the radio playing softly in the background. The ride started out silent, Sara drumming her fingers against her knee, Grissom mulling over his motivations for coming with her on what was a very personal trip. He couldn't help but feel guilty; he had always known he wanted her, and why he chose now of all times to let himself act on those feelings, he would never know. But part of him couldn't help but be proud of himself.

After all, he was driving his Denali all the way to California with the woman of his dreams. That had to count for something.

Sara shifted awkwardly in her seat. Her eyes met Grissom's brief gaze before they both turned back to the road in front of them, "When was the last time you were at the shore?" Grissom asked.

Sara shrugged, "Awhile ago. It was the last place I visited before I left for Harvard. I wanted to leave on a good note, not thinking of all the bad I was leaving behind. I just stood there for a little bit, then left. It was no big deal."

But in fact, it had been a big deal. The secluded shore had never held any bad memories, never held any Sidle family tears, until the last time she had set foot on the sandy shores. It hadn't been a happy goodbye for Sara as she sat at the edge of the waterline, letting the cool water brush up against her toes, watching her tears fall into the salty water. The trip wasn't to remember all the good times so much as it was to release the bad memories that had been building up her whole life. It was freeing, and she hadn't been back since.

"What about you?" she asked, "You grew up in California. Your family must have had a vacation spot on the shore."

Grissom grinned, "Actually, no. My mom, being a painter, found that the shore was painted to often by the artists of California. She tried to be different. We had a cabin up by Lake of the Woods, on Cuddy Creek. I would roam the woods all day, and my mom would paint. It was beautiful."

Sara smiled and refrained from bringing up an old question about beauty. Instead, she asked, "What about your dad? What did he do to relax?"

The car went silent and Grissom gave a small frown, "My father died when I was nine. Lake of the Woods was something of an escape my mother made every year after he passed away."

Sara bit her bottom lip and let out a small breath, "I'm so sorry, Grissom. I didn't know…"

"It's alright," he stopped her, "You didn't know. Almost no one does. Matter of fact, besides you, the only other one from Vegas who does know is…"

This time, the shrill ring of his phone stalled the conversation. "Catherine," he finished, rolling his eyes at the irony displayed on the caller ID.

"Grissom."

"A week? You're leaving me with your mountains of paperwork for a week? _And _you told Ecklie before telling me?"

"I thought you missed being in charge," he mumbled.

"That's not the point, Gil, and you know it. Not only are you gone, but I'm short a CSI as well. You both may act clueless, but you and Sara HAVE to be psychically in tune, or something. Both take a week off at the same time, I swear you plan this sort of thing just to annoy me," Catherine huffed and Grissom could almost see her shaking her head on the other end of the line.

"I'm sure Sara has a very good reason for taking a week off, as do I Catherine. Now, not to cut this enthralling conversation short, but I'm kind of on the road, and I really need to go."

"Oh no you don't," Catherine hissed, "Not without a damn good…"

"You're breaking up, I can't hear you," said Grissom as he clicked his phone shut. Sara stared at him in disbelief before letting out a chuckle.

"I can't believe you hung up on her," she said.

Grissom shrugged. "I didn't hang up on her. We just hit a bit of bad reception."

Grissom smiled and winked at her before turning his attention back to the road. Sara blushed and turned to look out her window. As the ride turned silent again, she couldn't help but feel a little guilty that she was having a good time when she was on a mission to find her dying mother.


End file.
